A white ship crawls the blue horizon,
Only a speck on the
A stream of pelicans rides gentle winds,
Fragile links in a chain of time.
Long swells tumble in muted roar,
Drumming their songs on
An old fisherman casts a baited hook,
His wife engrossed in a fluffy book.
Sensing nothing of time and place,
Young lovers lock in
Held and guided by her father's hand,
A young child builds a castle of sand.
The pelicans break to dive and wheel,
The old fisherman shakes his
The castle crumbles in the muted roar,
Towers and bridges melt to
The embrace of passion cools and wanes,
The lovers soaked in a
The white speck vanishes; the horizon is
Only the memory knows
Someone is there.
Nothing is unchanged; no one goes free,
All touched by the tide of the
Copyright June 22, 2007
J. Harold Thurmond